


Son...

by Im_writing_out_of_time



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander's death, Canon Era, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Battle, THIS IS NOT A LOVE RELATIONSHIP WHERE THEY DO THE DIRTY, descriptions of minor injury, not Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_writing_out_of_time/pseuds/Im_writing_out_of_time
Summary: After a bloody battle, Alexander Hamilton is nowhere to be found. Then, a young soldier comes with news of Hamilton's death.





	Son...

“Where’s Hamilton? Has anyone seen Alexander?” 

George was running around camp looking for his right-hand man. They had come back from the battlefield with few men injured, but his right hand was nowhere to be found. He passed Lafayette beside a canvas tent. His hair was everywhere and his uniform was dirty. “No one has seen him anywhere, sir. We can send out some men to search for him if you-” 

“General!” A small soldier ran up to the pair. “General, I just received word that Hamilton was hit and killed during the battle.” Washington’s eyes showed immediate pain at the news but the rest of his face hardened into stone. 

“Alright, thank you.” The young soldier saluted before running away to his own tent. George turned to Lafayette and his eyes met the Frenchman’s. “It appears that we don’t need a search party anymore. You are relieved for the night, general.” He turned to his tent. “I suppose I’ll have to go write Eliza and let her know the news.” He walked into his tent and immediately fell to the ground. He couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down his face. “Oh god. That kid couldn’t ever stay safe, could he?” he whispered. “He always had to be daring, always getting into trouble.” He laid himself down and stared at the canvas tent above his head, looking at the stain where Alexander had thrown his food in an excited fury. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” He laid there and stared at the stain for a while before finally standing up and walking outside the tent. The men had set up a few different campfires along the trails by his tent and he could hear the whispers spreading around the campground. 

_Hamilton got shot._

_No one found his body._

_How do you think the general is taking it?_

_The general wished to be alone in his tent. Should we just leave him?_

_They were close. I bet he’s devastated._

George stood up tall in front of the majority of the men and placed his hat upon his head once more. No one mentioned his red, swollen eyes, just as no one had questioned why Lafayette, Laurens, and Mulligan had all squirreled themselves away in a tent, rather than joining around the campfires for supper with the rest of them. “I’m sure you all have heard the news. I have received word that Major General Alexander Hamilton was shot and killed in our latest battle. None of our men have found his body, but be sure to keep an eye out. I know his darling Eliza would want him to be laid to rest in a marked grave where she and their son could visit him, rather than not knowing where he was. Morale is low among some of you, especially those of you who were close to Alexander, however, we must push on. General Hamilton died for his country and our freedom. Let’s make sure his death was not in vain. I want you to all get something to eat, warm up around the fire, and rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. We move out at dawn.” 

The men sitting around the campfires couldn’t maintain eye contact with him. They knew how he really felt. Alexander had been a friend, a protégé, almost like a son to him. How had Alexander gotten killed? Where was he? The men finally looked at Washington as he turned and plodded back in his tent, his shoulders slumping as he walked, his stature no longer strong and proud. His body showed his emotions and whispers ran through the camp as the men talked among themselves. The men got up and doused their fire, walking to the tent where the three soldiers were mourning the loss of their closest friend. Burr had joined them as Washington spoke and the rest of the battalion marched out of camp. They each rustled in their tents for their weapons in case they needed them, a few men carrying torches to light their way. 

Silence filled the camp as the men, some crying in mourning, some extra determined to help, walked out of the camp to the battlefield to search for their fallen comrade. They had been fighting for days, and they were fortunate that there had only been one loss among the group, but that one loss impacted them the most. They knew how the general reacted when he lost any one of his men, they all expected his emotions to be ten-fold, losing the man he had seen as a son. The men marched in silence, knowing that finding Alexander was not only for the benefit of Alexander’s new widow, but also for their general. He wanted to be able to mourn the young man alongside the young widow and their son. Alexander had come back to camp after a forced break from General Washington and announced with fervor to the troop that his wife was heavy with child. The men had all stayed close to the Hamilton family home as it came time for Eliza to give birth, and Alexander ran outside to greet his friends and soldiers after his baby was born, announcing that he had a son. The men had seen the small child as Alexander sneaked him away from Eliza to show the men his newborn son. Soon after the birth, the men had all left town to resume fighting. They owed it to Eliza and Philip as much as they did their general to find Hamilton’s body. 

They walked up and down the field, searching in gullies and holes, wondering if their superior had shacked himself up in an animal hole to stay safe. It was obvious someone had seen him taken down and the men cried as they searched, memories of Alexander being tossed along the wind to each other. They knew Washington was in his tent, probably writing a letter to Eliza, crying. And they were right. 

Washington had kept himself in the tent after his speech, crying over a piece of paper, wondering what words he could use to tell Eliza what happened. Even he didn’t know what happened. One moment Alexander was beside him, the next, gone. He pushed away the parchment and listened to the silence of the camp. The men were being unusually quiet, but he stayed in his tent mourning the loss of his right-hand man. He heard a set of footsteps outside his tent, but he didn’t move until the person opened the tent flap without permission. 

“Sir? The men have all disappeared. The camp is empty.” He turned around and saw Burr standing in the doorway of his tent, three men behind him. Their eyes were red and swollen, and he knew they had been crying just as he had. Burr was the only one with dry eyes. “Have they deserted?”

“I don’t think an entire troop of men would just up and desert, but I suppose it is possible. I’ve been trying to write a letter to his wife, Alexander’s, but I can’t find the words. I’ve written this letter more than once, but now I feel as though I should deliver the news in person.” He stood up and walked past the men, who trailed after him as he began to walk across the camp. “I assume you men are coming with me to give our condolences.” They said nothing but followed the tall man as he walked to the end of the camp. 

George stared at the ground right before his feet. _Why didn’t he just stay where he was? He had the perfect spot to stay covered from the English fire. Did he die confused, alone and in pain?_ The tears slid down his face and he didn’t even try to hide the sob that racked from his chest. _He’ll never see his wife again and he’ll never see his son grow up._ George knew he wasn’t behaving like a commander, but he had just lost a close friend. His men shouldn’t see him crying, but he was glad it was only in front of the four other men, rather than the whole troop. 

The men all stopped as they heard branches breaking in the dark. They grabbed weapons in the tents closest to them and fumbled as they loaded them as fast as possible. Another branch snapped and a body hit the ground. They watched as a person hobbled up to their feet and emerged from the dark before they brought their weapons up to fire.

“Who goes there?” questioned Burr. 

“It’s me, you moron,” a weak voice rasped out. 

The men all dropped their weapons and before them stood an American soldier. George rushed towards the man, tackling him in a hug. “Alexander, they told us you were dead.” Alexander gasped in pain and began to fall to the ground before George caught him and lowered him to the ground. 

“I’m getting there, George,” he coughed out. “I need help. I got hit. I don’t think it hit anything vital but it won’t stop bleeding.” His head fell back to the ground. “I’m so cold.”

Lafayette was fumbling behind everyone as he tried to light a fire to warm the man. Laurens took off his coat and threw it over Alexander’s tiny, shivering frame before bending over his face and kissing him passionately. 

“You stupid, stupid man,” he sobbed, moving the coat away from the wound on Alexander’s side.

“John-” 

“God, we thought you were dead! You’re dying Alexander. That’s what’s going to happen if we don’t get you help,” he sobbed. “I don’t care what they think, if they hate us for what we have,” he whispered. “But I don’t ever want to lose you. Even if I can never have you.” He drew their foreheads together as George began to try and help clean Alexander’s wounds with alcohol. Alexander’s body began to curl up in pain as the alcohol bit into his wounds. “Shh, you’ll be okay. I know it hurts, but it’ll be all better in a little bit. You’ll be perfect once more.”

“I’m not perfect John. I’m loud, outspoken, I don’t listen to anyone,” he trailed off. “That’s why I’m even here.” He took a shaky, pain-ridden breath. “I didn’t stay behind the rock or tree or whatever I was behind. I lost you guys in the firefight. One of the Redcoats-” His body quickly tensed before it completely relaxed. 

George stopped what he was doing and shook Alexander, but he didn’t respond. “Alexander, wake up.”

“George, just keep working on him. I feel a heartbeat,” Lafayette said. “Just hurry.” 

George finished stitching Alexander up with some things he found in his men’s bags. Luckily, someone had a needle and thread. “It’s the best I could do. It’s up to him now. Move him into my tent.”

Lafayette grabbed Alexander’s body beneath his arms and lifted him as Burr grabbed his feet. Hercules wrapped his arms around Alexander’s midsection, careful to miss the newly sewed wound and the three carried him to Washington’s tent, setting him gently on the thin blanket on the ground. George stared at his shaking hands, the blood on his hands glistening in the fire light. His breathing was fast and shaky and his vision was blurring. He could see one of his men still sitting on the ground, slowly moving himself to lay down, curling himself up around himself. 

Washington plopped himself down on the ground and rested his forehead on his hand, his elbow resting on his knee. “He has to be okay, right? I helped him?” 

John sat up and looked at his superior, tears streaming down his face, his bottom lip quivering. “I don’t think you made it worse.” He moved to sit side-by-side with the general. “We have to walk him home. The other men, they have arm and leg injuries. Make the ones with leg injuries a crutch and they could all walk. We need to make something to carry Alexander home in, so his family can see him.” 

“You love him, don’t you?”

“I do. So much. It killed me to watch him marry Eliza, but you know how it is. Men are supposed to marry women. I just want him happy.” He looked woefully at the lone tent across the camp that he knew held Alexander. “And he’s happy with her.” He stood up and grabbed George’s hand to pull him up. “I’m going to go sit with him, sir, do you mind?”

“No, I don’t. In fact, I’ll go with you.” The two men walked to the tent, leaving the muskets on the ground. They heard walking behind them and turned around to see the troop walking towards them. 

“We couldn’t find him, sir. We went out as a group, but we couldn’t find him. We plan to go out at morning light.” The young soldier paused. “We’re sorry sir.” He looked down at the hands of his superior, the blood still glistening from the flickering fire. “Sir, you’re bleeding.” 

“We found him. Well, he found us. We had to take some spirits and a sewing kit from some of your bags, but I’m trying to hope for the best, but it’s still touch and go. He- uh, he isn’t awake anymore, and he didn’t tell us much. Lieutenant Colonel Laurens and I are going to check on him now. We will update you later.” 

As the pair walked to the general’s tent, Laurens began to cry again. “Why didn’t you take my officer title away from me?”

“Falling in love with someone is hardly a legitimate reason to take away someone’s rank. So you love a man. He’s a great man. Though I wouldn’t make it overly obvious within the camp, the few of us who already know will not let it go any further. You’re an extraordinary soldier, John, and I’d be just as devastated if I lost you as I would any of my other men, most probably as much as I would mourn Alexander. He is much like a son to me, and I could consider you to be one of my sons as well.” He pulled the tent flap aside. “You first, John.” 

John walked in and sank to the ground beside Alexander. He ran his fingers through Alexander’s dark hair, untangling the snarls that had knotted themselves. He pulled the coat he had laid on him down so it covered his torso completely. He moved to Alexander’s head and picked it up to rest it in his lap. John spent his time brushing Alexander’s hair back. He grabbed a piece of his shirt and wiped the blood from Alexander’s face before going back to playing with the unruly brown hair in his lap. 

“John, you should go get some sleep. I’ll be here all night, I’ll make sure he’s okay.” George gently lifted Alexander’s head from John’s lap and John slipped out and knelt beside Alexander and kissed his dry lips. 

“I love you Alexander, I love you so much.” He walked out of the tent and George could hear some of the other men outside with John, talking to him about Alexander’s condition. 

George slumped down in his chair and watched the slight movements of Alexander’s chest. It had been a long day and he was tired, but he couldn’t sleep until Alexander woke up. He slid to the floor and leaned against his chair from the floor. “I’ve always thought of you as a son. I always felt this need to guide you, to be your father. I know you had a rough life before you came to America, but that’s all behind you. You’re smart, Alexander. Your mother would be proud of what you’ve accomplished. I know I am.” He took a deep breath. “I cried when the soldier came in telling me that he was given news that you were dead. I cried. I tried to be strong for the men, but I couldn’t. I cried for you Alexander, and I’m glad those tears were all in vain.” He took his coat and tried wiping the blood from his hands. “We were on our way to tell Eliza in person that you were gone. I couldn’t find the words to say in a letter. When you walked in, I ran to you, even just slightly hoping that it was actually you. I need to sleep, but I won’t until I can go tell the boys you’re awake. They’re all waiting to know. They went to try and find you in the field. I’m glad they didn’t.”

“Me too,” croaked a dry voice. “I wish I could have been your son. I love you as a son loves his father.” 

George ran to the doorway of the tent “Men, he’s awake!” he exclaimed. “He’s gonna be okay.” A cheer sounded throughout the camp and George smiled as he closed the door and returned to his tent. “They all deserted the camp silently to go find you. Those men out there are as loyal as they come. They wanted to be able to return something to your family. We plan on bringing you home in the morning. Though we would appreciate your service, you are in no shape to be fighting. The war will be over soon and you can heal in the company of your family.” 

“I could stay and be your aide- de- camp. It doesn’t take much to sit upright and write letters. When we pick up camp and move, I could ride horseback. I want to finish the war alongside you, alongside my men.” Alexander moved to sit up but winced in pain and his wound began to bleed again. 

“Alexander, just lay down. I know your friends are outside the tent waiting to see you.” The tent door rustled and the men’s faces appeared. “You can all come in. But keep your visit short. He has to get his rest. Burr, tell the men we leave at morning light. General Hamilton is going home.” 

Burr parted around the tent flap and told the news to the men while the others squeezed themselves in the tent around Alexander. All their voices were clamoring at once, except John, who stood behind the others quietly. 

“You can go talk to him, you know.”

John looked up with tears in his eyes. “I had my time with him. I’ll be fine,” his voice broke. “I’ll be fine. He’s gonna be okay. That’s all that matters to me. That, and his happiness.” He watched his friends talk animatedly to their injured comrade. Lafayette speaking in his own language of half English, half French and Mulligan was crouched beside him, his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. John looked at his friend on the ground and studied his face. He studied the slope of his nose, the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled at his friend’s broken English though John could also see the exhaustion in dark circles beneath them, his lips, the way his dark hair was tangled again, despite the fact that John knew he had brushed it with his fingers not twenty minutes prior. “I love him,” he whispered. He watched Hercules stand up and Lafayette walked towards the door, leaving John alone with Alexander and Washington. 

“Go talk to him, young man. I’ll go talk to the rest of the troops. If they question why you’re in here, I’ll tell them you were commanded to keep watch of him.” George walked out of the tent, the flap waving behind him as it settled in place.

“John, come talk to me.” Alexander was trying to push himself off the ground. “Help me into that chair, actually. I would do it but it seems as though sewing thread has not the same bearing on wounds as doctor’s thread. Although I believe the Lieutenant General did a very good sewing job.” He grabbed his side and tried to shuffle himself to the chair, but John picked him up and set him in the chair. 

“We thought we lost you, Alexander. All of us. We sat in a tent for most of the night crying about you. Even Burr was there saying good things about you. You don’t even have any idea how much you mean to me, to us. Please, just go home tomorrow when we bring you, get an actual doctor to sew your wounds, and get better. We can’t lose you.” He sat on the ground, resting his head on Alexander’s lap. “I love you so much, and I don’t think you realize knowing how much it kills me that you’ll live your life alongside Eliza, and not me. But I want you happy. That’s why I step aside. Just please promise me that you’ll think about your actions before you go and do something stupid, think of me. I can’t lose you Alexander.” He stood up and kissed Alexander with all the remaining passion he had in his body before he walked out of the tent, holding the tent flap open for George to walk through. 

“Sir, I-”

“Rest, Alexander. I’ll help you to the ground. Some men have offered their blankets for you to sleep on. It’s not much but they do care. We’ll bring you home at first light and we’ll stay in town for a few days. Then we’ll pack up and head back out to finish this war.” He lifted Alexander from the chair and set him on the floor. “I heard every word John said, and he’s right. We all love you, maybe not like him, but we do, and it would kill us if anything happened to you. These men all look up to you and they’ll do anything to keep you safe. Now get some rest son.”

“Call me son one more time.”

George chuckled. “Goodnight son. Now get some sleep, Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stalk me on tumblr
> 
> @im-writing-out-of-time


End file.
